


The winds of Niflheim

by MissisJoker



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissisJoker/pseuds/MissisJoker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgard is threatened by invasion, and help comes from rather unlikely source</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and I don't have a beta, so if you see any mistakes or have suggestions/ideas that can help me improve writing- please, poke, I'll be forever grateful!

A while had passed since Loki had fallen into abyss but that time meant nothing for those close to him.

 

Thor had grieved openly, displaying his emotions without hesitation. For several seasons the mighty storms swept across the plains of the kingdom, dark clouds and lightning resembling the mood of the crown prince.

 

Frigga mourned quietly, in the private of her chambers, crying her eyes out over the loss of a child that was truly hers - not by the womb but by the heart, a heart that died together with him, replaced by void in her chest that soon filled up with pain and guilt that she as mother had failed him.

 

Odin however seemed completely unmoved by the events unveiled, as if the King was almost grateful that his foster son had perished, as if a great burden had finally left him.

 

Frigga always suspected Odin might have had second thoughts about the changeling, not because he regretted the act of mercy, but because he was afraid- the child was different from their own kin, strange, alien, unpredictable, like the winds of Niflheim.

 

Odin craved control, he liked his subjects complacent and obedient, like well-trained dogs, and so was with his children.  
Thor was easy, simple, an open book for everyone to read.

 

Loki, however, was completely different. For when all other loved summer, he craved winter, when all enjoyed sunlight, he waited for the moon and stars, for when everyone took the spear in their right hand, he used his left.

 

It grew on Odin as a matter of great concern. The skills Loki possessed were unmatched, and that was what worried Odin so- no Jotunn had ever displayed any talents in magic, and wielding of words and spells was a trait of much older and much more dangerous race that was remembered only in legends. Odin’s suspicions grew, his disapproval became resentment based on deeply rooted fear, and when the moment came, Odin didn’t confront his fear as it befitted the true warrior, he just stood there and watched his son fall.

 

What a Queen’s mind could understand, a mother’s heart would never forgive.

 

She never left her husband’s side, but she never shared a word with him again.

 

After Loki killed Laufey many in the Eternal realm rejoiced, many whispered in the shadows that the Silvertongue had been right, that his actions helped ensure peace because the demise of the frost giant king rendered the Jotun race powerless and finally eliminated the threat. Others argued that he had gone mad, that even giants deserve a fair fight and mercy.

What all of them had forgotten that the enemies of Asgard do not only come from Jotunheim.

 

While the rumors spread about what really happened on the bridge,the enemies waited and gathered power, their numbers swell and their hunger grew, and the second Bifrost was opened again they charged their hordes into the plains of Asgard.

 

All capable were called upon by a oath of honor to defend the realm, and the troops were spread thin, fighting trolls and dark elves and wizards from Svartalfaheim in bloody battles across the nine realms.

 

Only younglings, elderly and those unable to wield a weapon were left behind, under protection of the Royal palace and a tender guardianship of the Queen.  
And so was Odin, who fell into Odinsleep once again after a very tiring battle in one of the worlds. Frigga ordered him protected and cared of, paid respects and left, not wishing to spend any spare moment at her husband’s side.

 

Thor was gone as well, lost somewhere in Midgard, helping humans in their struggle against unknown invaders, alive and well, but unreachable.

 

And now the Queen was standing in the Great Hall alone, watching silently as the sun set over Bifrost in the distance. The Hall was empty, stripped of maidens voices and children’s laughter.  
She felt cold and tired, the weight of the reign resting upon her delicate shoulders.

 

Suddenly a roaring sound rolled through the air and the walls trembled, and the black smog with red stains enveloped Bifrost as if the mighty fire had been put out with a stream of blood.

 

Frigga blenched from the window, startled, as a scared maiden ran into the Hall, shouting her name.

 

" What is it?" - Frigga caught the girl as she stumbled and helped her back to her feet.

 

"Trolls, madam, they seized the Bifrost!"

 

"How many?"

 

A strike of terror distorted soft features of the girl’s face.  
" Four hundred, madam."

 

The blood chilled in Frigga’s veins, horror of the news settling down slowly.

 

"How long do we have?"

 

"Not long, my Queen, they are charging here on full speed as we speak."

 

Frigga sighed, trying to calm down her heart, and cupped the maiden’s face in her palms.

"Go to the guards and tell them to start evacuation, get all people out in the caves, the mountains should protect them until the army returns." She smiled reassuringly at the girl, " And be safe."

 

With that Frigga straightened up, fixed an unruly curl of her hair and gracefully headed to the grand stairs.

 

Thor, my son, I need you by my side. Please, answer me, Thor, wherever you are…

 

She got no answer.

 

Thor, where are you? Can't you hear my plea? We need you, Thor, Asgard needs you!

 

She passed the nursery and the healing rooms, where maids were gathering sick and wounded and helping them out in a haste.  
The procession of healers and healing moved fast, but not fast enough, as there were too many of them in the rooms.

 

Her son remained silent, and a grave resolution settled down in her chest as the Queen approached the main gate.

 

The three remaining guards lined up in the center of the courtyard, paying her respects and blocking her way at the same time.

"Ma’am?"

 

"I ordered you to evacuate, have I not?"

 

The chief guard bowed and nodded,  
"Yes, Ma’am, but we have to ensure your safety first."

 

Frigga dismissed him with a wave of her hand.  
" Leave now, help maidens in the Healing rooms, there is nothing you can do here."

 

"But we can't..."

 

"Now!"

 

Frigga passed the men and started to open the lock.  
The guards stared at her in shock.  
" What are you doing?"

 

"I am going to show our guests hospitality that befits Asgard."

 

"We cannot allow you to do that!"

 

"I’m still the queen of this realm, am I not?"

 

Her stern tone made the guards cringe and bow in submission.

"But they will kill you…"

 

"Lets hope I’ll buy you enough time then."

 

The guards watched in despair as the gates closed behind their Queen.

 

Frigga could see the dust cloud coming up from the road where troll’s army was racing.  
She looked at the palace one last time, adoring its eternal beauty and majesty, countless hallways and the peaks gleaming in the sun.  
Tears filled her eyes and she clenched her fists, trying to remain calm. It was not fear, it was just…sadness. But then again, …

 

Loki, my child…You won’t have to wait any longer…My dearest, I’ll be with you soon.

She smiled solemnly to herself and quickened her pace.


	2. Chapter 2

The river’s serpentine glided around the small plain from where the Bifrost started, lining along the gap between the mainland and the patch of the fore post. It’s cold and crystal clear waters marked the border between the Bifrost and Asgardian lands and rushed down into the skies, creating a waterfall of indescribable beauty.

 

And there she stopped, the river behind her, the rocky patch of land under her feet, and a horde of trolls charging through the rainbow bridge ahead.

 

Frigga glanced around, looking for the best spot for her last stand, and positioned herself so that she was right in the middle of the road and yet again could easily through herself into the gleaming waters.

 

She had decided on her way from the palace that she is not going to be stricken down by a sword or molested to death by the soldiers. When it will come to that, she would give herself up to the stream and follow her son into the void.

 

The fetor and noise filled the air and Frigga ordered herself to be strong and brave, as the enemy leading party stopped at her sight, panting heavily and ogling her maliciously.

 

The trolls were known across the realms for their striking ugliness and total defiance of hygiene, but Frigga had never had a pleasure to meet one up so close, so she startled for a second at the sight of them and coughed as the stench caught up her breath.

 

The trolls came closer, sneering and smiling gleefully with their rotten teeth.

"Look what we have here, pals, an old hag coming down to greet us!"

 

The trolls sniggered at the insult, but Frigga held her ground, just put her chin higher proudly.

"I thought of you to be more respectful."

 

The leader of the trolls stared at her with his little angry eyes.

 

"I respect nothing but big muscle and good armor, and you have neither, just a bag of bones. Although," - he petted his belly with a huge dirty hand, - "I am hungry, so I will have you for dinner."

 

The trolls snickered louder, and Frigga took a step back.

"You are unwelcome here. And don’t be mistaken - the Gods see everything you do and will punish you for your crimes."

 

The troll gimped closer and leered,

"The Gods? The Gods are dead, haven’t you heard? Here, let me show you."

 

The group started cheering, and Frigga couldn’t suppress a shriek of horror as the troll opened a bag on his belt and Heimdall’s unblinking head dropped to the ground and rolled till it hit the tips of her feet.

 

The troll looked back at his friends and threw his hands in the air in a gesture of a mocking frustration.

" What stinking hole is this? I think we took the wrong road, pals! No way in Hel can it be the Realm Eternal, if it is protected by a dead god, a hag and a weakling! "

 

A Weakling?

Frigga blinked and only then heard soft steps behind her. Her heart stopped, as she didn’t have to turn her head to recognize them…

 

Loki?

 

She swung around and froze in shock, as she saw her son standing behind her, lean and lethal and beautiful, just as she remembered him.

"Loki…"

 

Loki considered the trolls for a second, then looked at the head on the ground, then turned to Frigga and gave her a curt nod.

" My Queen. I believe it is time for you to leave."

 

Frigga came closer, not believing her eyes, forgetting about trolls and war and the rest of the world as her son came back to her from the dead.

 

She was afraid to blink, fearing that he will disappear the moment she closes her eyes, but he was there, and he was real. A little older and a lot calmer, with few new scars tainting his pale skin. But Loki indeed was there, and he emanated power she never felt from him before, and she stepped closer again, bathing in the sensation.

 

He caressed her cheek with long elegant fingers and Frigga shivered, tears clouding her sight.

 

" Go to the fort. Now."

 

She covered his hand with her palm and whispered, " I will not leave you."

 

Loki pursed his lips in frustration, than sighed. Frigga forgot how to breathe as the look in her son’s eyes made her blood run cold- it was tender and sad, and it felt like a good bye.

 

The very next moment the world was spinning around her as she flew into the small fort at the opposite side of the bridge. She sprang to her feet and charged to the exit, but the heavy doors slammed closed in front of her, covering her with dust and mold, and a streak of green light flashed through the locks, sealing them with magic.

 

Frigga wailed in despair and slammed her fists into the wood, cursing the gods and universe itself for bringing her son back into her arms only to be taken from her again.

 

Meanwhile Loki turned back to the trolls and considered them serenely.

 

"So, I guess, you are the leader? " - He smirked. "Very well then, I challenge you to a match."  
Loki looked the troll in the eyes and tilted his head slightly, his voice velvet and smooth like a whisper of the wind.

 

"Should you win; the land you are standing on will be yours. Should I win, however, you and your swarm will leave the realm and never set a foot here again."

 

The troll stared at him for a second, than roared in anger.

" I am Urka the Great, a leader of the Trolls and a champion of nine realms! Who are you to dare challenge me?!"

 

Loki straightened up and somehow made a giant in front of him look small and insignificant.

" I am Loki, the King of Asgard."


	3. Chapter 3

He charged at Loki, gripping his nasty axe with both hands and raising it for a wide blow, aiming at Loki’s head. Loki just smirked, arched back and glided forward on his heels, easily avoiding the blade, straightened up and hit the troll in the throat with his knife in one swift motion, plunging the steel into the dirty flesh up to its hilt.

 

Trolls watched in silent shock as their leader’s lifeless body fell to the ground, piling up in the dirt like a bundle of flesh and bone.

 

Loki leaned down and pulled his dagger out of the corpse, wiped it on the troll’s clothes with a barely concealed disgust and glared at the vanguard.

“Leave now”.

 

The giants stood before him in silence for another moment, their maws open in a sight of commenced offense, and then the dam broke and the air filled out with bawls of outrage and clinging of weapons being unholstered.

 

“Well, I guess, it is a no,” Loki muttered to himself and reached for his spear.

 

Frigga thrashed in her unfortunate prison as a bird does in the cage desperate for its freedom. Never had Asgard been threatened so impudently, never had an Asgardian fought with such overwhelming odds.

And she, a docile old woman, had ordered all the guards to leave and retreat into the grounds, leaving her son alone without any help.

 

Tears of shame and dismay welled in her eyes once again, and she hit the door with all her pitiful force. The locks didn’t move, but the dump wood cracked under her fists, and as she pushed harder, the log split in the center and a part of it fell out, baring an opening before her face. Frigga stopped struggling for a second, then clang to the door and glanced outside, her eyes hungry for Loki’s lean form.

 

Loki swung his spear again, slicing one troll’s throat and hitting the second in the eye with a precise strike. He jumped over the corpses and plunged the blade deep into another troll’s chest and then ducked, avoiding a deathly blow from a giant who came at him from behind. As an axe flew over his head, Loki retaliated, thrusting his knife deep into the offender’s belly without even looking at him, then just stepped aside, letting the dead weight fall to the ground.

 

Frigga had mused in her time if Loki was another fruit of Odin’s illicit affairs. Odin was careful, but Frigga was no fool either. Her husband was a battle-forged warrior, a hero of nine realms, and a ruler of Asgard and so, whenever his name was concerned, any woman’s heart would willingly open and legs would willingly spread.

After all, the name All-father was well deserved.

 

Frigga was appalled and hurt for a while but then came to peace with the matter, and even took into her responsibility to look after Odin’s illegitimate children.

She prided herself to be able to find them in the Asgardian crowd for that they always bore a set of traits that came with Odin’s blood. They all had been golden haired and blue eyed, large built and stubborn, and all found allure in physical force and strength.

 

So when Odin presented her with a baby he allegedly found on Jutenheim, Frigga cursed at her promiscuous husband for bringing a bastard in her chambers.

But as the baby wailed in her arms and then smiled at her with his toothless mouth, her heart melted and she cradled him closer to her chest, accepting him as her own.

 

She watched him silently as he grew older and soon found how erroneous her thoughts were – odinlings were representing blunt force, like hammers and axes, strong, effective but lacking any elegance whatsoever, but he was a picture of stealth and grace, like a finest blade, slim and lethal, his beauty unparalleled.

 

And now, watching him dance around the trolls and destroying them without a single unnecessary step or a single excess glance she knew for sure that he was not her husband’s son.

 

**************

Remaining trolls circled around him like sharks near the bleeding pray, trying to close in and ensnare him. Loki launched forward, driving his spear into the ground and pushing off of it, then ran over one of the trolls using his broad chest as a stairs and vaulting over the trolls head and out of the trap.

Then he swung around and took the troll’s head off with his spear, swirled around and beheaded another one, not giving him a chance to fight back. The rest of the giants were trying to hit him with their range of weapons, but Loki just saltated around like a whirlwind of death, finishing them off one by one.

 

When the last one was dead, he stopped and lowered the spear, trying to catch his breath. Then Loki drove the weapon into the earth and unbuckled his cape, draping it around the shaft, and turned to the Bifrost, waiting for the main army approach.

 

And here I stand, a shame of house of Odin, a pathetic excuse for a warrior, waiting to face an enemy army all by myself. If only Thor and All-father knew this, they would likely die laughing.

 

Loki smiled sadly, shook his head, carelessly swiped an unruly raven lock of hair from his forehead, and reached for his sword.

 

As the army proceeded through the Bifrost it broke into three large parts, stretching along the path as the speed of the groups continued to differ.

 

The first and fastest was the light-armored infantry, the most unruly and the hungriest ones, who charged ahead craving for food and bounty more then for blood or glory. 

In the middle was the cavalry: smaller-framed trolls armed with falxes, glaives and sickles, which considered themselves elite of the troll invasion force and therefore mounted their heavy breed of blind horses with unconcealed pride and boast.

 

The third part consisted of artillery, the biggest and ugliest trolls from the deepest caves of the underworld, who were dragging long-range weapons and catapults on their backs as if two-legged mules. 

 

As the infantry rushed onto the plain they instantly stopped, crashing into each other backs, balled over the eerily scene that appeared before their eyes.

 

The patch of earth was crowned with a circle of troll corpses, in the center of it a tall raven-haired man stood silently, leaning on his spear for support. His pale face was solemn, his posture looked weary and tired, as if plentiful wounds were concealed beneath his intricate Asgardian armor.

 

The trolls ogled him for a while, their brows furrowed and foreheads wrinkled with confusion, and then prowled forward, battle axes ready, taking every step with caution, waiting for the Asgardian guards to jump out from secret hideout at every second.

 

What had never come across their minds was that there was no Asgardian ambush waiting for them and that the man was completely alone.

And for that matter, he was not wounded, nor he was tired- he was simply outrageously bored.

 

He watched their approach guardedly and then, when they were close enough to hear him speak without strain, he held out his hand and motioned them to stop, to which they astonishingly obeyed.

 

“My foul-smelling brethren, please. I’ve tired myself fighting your vanguard and now bare no strength to stand against all of thou. So I humbly ask for a swift and noble death by the hand of the mightiest warrior. As thou can see,”

he turned and gestured over the corpse at his feet,

“your leader had fallen by my hand. Which means that whoever kills me, will be your next commander and, “

Loki made a dramatic pause, “the one in charge of dividing the bounty. So,” - he smiled sweetly and looked over the crowd, “choose wisely.”

 

And just as he thought, several trolls advanced forward in the same instant, each braggy and confident in his superiority, only to be stopped by others who didn’t share that opinion. In a blink of an eye the front line filled with growls, quarrels and profanities, and blows and kicks soon followed, accompanied by the cling of metal and the sound of flesh being slashed.

All Loki had to do is stay there and watch as the trolls were killing each other with a great share of enthusiasm.

 

When the trolls from behind realized they’ve been fooled and rushed forward, bellowing for their comrades to stop fighting each other and kill their sly target, it was too late – Loki had already gained an upper ground.

Literally, as he was now standing atop of the pile of killed trolls, overlooking the ruck with blatant contempt.

As they charged at him, he drew out his sword and started slashing them with ease, using his fresh kills as stepping pillars, graciously dancing back and forth to match the tide of attack.

He kicked them in their faces and leaped through the crowd, pouncing side to side to evade the malicious blows, winning time when the trolls halted momentarily, their weapons stuck in the flesh of their fallen comrades.

Few moments later Loki left the gruesome pile of bloody pulp and chased down the trolls who fled the battle across the field, only to stop dead in his tracks as he came face to face with the advancing troll cavalry. He swung on his feet and flew back, trolls and their blind savage horses hot in pursuit as the command “Charge!” echoed across the plain.

 

*****

 

Frigga watched the battle with grim fascination. Her son had many talents, and his skilled tongue was certainly a gift from the Higher powers.   
She didn’t hear what he had said to the trolls, only watched, deeply amused, they turned on each other and murdered their own as Loki stood there, motionless.   
She wondered why was it so hard for Asgardians to believe that the power doesn’t necessarily mean force, that a skillfully placed word may wound worse then the sharpest of swords? Perhaps because no one in Asgard could wield his word as craftily as her youngest? And what they couldn’t do, they did not accept?

 

The claws of fear tightened their grip on Frigga’s heart as the mountain of corpses grew and slowly shielded Loki away from her. She couldn’t see him any more, could only hear the sounds of the battle and guess that since the bodies were still piling up and no trolls rushed through them, her son was still there, alive and fighting them off.

 

And then the earth beneath her feet trembled and the walls of her prison started to shake, as the hundreds of hooves hit the ground in vicious stampede, and she clasped her hands over her mouth, trying not to scream in despair.

 

*********

 

Loki raced from the cavalry back to the edge of the plain, spears and axes flying above his head as he ducked and deflected the strikes. The weight of the horses caused the earth to tremble violently, and Loki missed a step and fell down, losing his balance.

 

His agile reaction saved him from horse’s hooves by a mere hair length, as he propelled himself away from the ravaging animal mere seconds before it trampled him to death.

 

He didn’t even have time to catch his breath, just went on sprinting away from the herd as fast as possible.

 

The very moment the detachment closed on the target and assumed position to strike, the target stopped near the edge of the plateau and grinned. 

 

The leader troll frowned- he’d seen many battles before, and the reaction was less then usual - smile in the face of certain death…but may be it was a noble way of an Asgardian to greet his demise? Or may be the man had simply gone mad.

 

Meanwhile Loki, trapped between the equestrians and the river falling into the void, paused for a brief moment, feeling the direction of the wind. Then he jumped up as if to charge at them, and, to the great astonishment of the enemy, dissolved in the air before their eyes.

 

The detachment came to a full halt at a split second. The horses were breathing heavily, their muzzles sweaty and dripping foam from their lips, the horsemen were agitated, looking around for the trickster and finding only corpses of other trolls, mashed up with the mud by the hooves of the steeds.

 

What they didn’t know was that the man they were looking for was no longer in front of them, he was in their rear. While they were searching for escaped enemy, Loki crawled his way around the troops, trying hard to stay closer to the ground where stench of the dead concealed his own smell from the stallions’ keen noses.

 

Those horses, terrific and gruesome, were the very reason the cavalry was so feared. Huge, much stronger and heavier than any normal horse, they were born into the darkness of the caves and fed upon the decaying flesh of the troll’s prey. All black from tips of the ears to the ends of their tails, and blind as bats, they relied on their smell and hearing to navigate through the world if not mounted by their riders. They were savage, always hungry, and half-mad from the rage and blood thirst. Those horses were unstoppable as they felt no pain or fatigue, laying waste on anything in their way.

 

The trolls’ realm bred ponderous and savage creatures, and there was only one predator capable of slashing through the horses flesh and killing the whole herd just for fun – a saber tooth lion. Those giant cats were rare, hunted almost to extinction by trolls, but memory of their slaughterous attacks was imprinted into horses brain from the moment they got out of their mother’s wombs.

 

Loki stopped in the middle of the plain, still hidden from others eyes by invisibility charm, and reached into his pocket, taking out a small parcel wrapped into hard rag. He took the rough fabric off, exposing a strap of fur covered in dry blood. The piece of saber tooth lion’s skin was so small it could fit in Loki’s palm, but it was just big enough for the horses to smell.

 

Loki rose from his knees and opened his palm to the breeze.

 

The shrill of fear swept across the herd when the blast of wind brought the stench of the predator to the horses, and horsemen gaped as the beasts underneath them froze, unable to move.

 

Loki observed the scene for a second, amused by the way the horses stood on the ground unmoving, their forms inert as if carved out of marble, strained with tension like stings on the lyre, ready to burst at any moment.

 

He smiled to himself once more, enjoying the eerily view, inhaling deeply as gust of fresh air swept along his face.

 

And then he roared.

 

******************

 

Frigga watched the cavalry run from her little spying spot, frightened and mesmerized by the scene. She was a true dame, always shunning away from the war.

 

She dreamed of peace, as she knew- even the worst enemy was born from someone’s womb, and all the shining glory of the victors was in truth carried by the flow of someone else’s tears.

 

Now, plastered on the wooden door, shielded from the battle by Loki’s magic, she prayed for the war to end, for the enemies to die, disappear, get vaporized by lightning or swallowed by the earth, because they were standing between her and her son.

 

She craved only one thing- to cradle her child in her arms and tell him how much she loved him.

 

Loki was living in Thor’s shadow since they were little, and Frigga thought he complied, even enjoyed that- he was always hidden behind his mighty brother, left free to work his wonders, unconstrained by the burden of the throne or by high expectations of the first heir.

 

How could have she been so blind?

 

Loki felt unworthy, neglected, always second, never as loved as Thor, and that feeling must have accumulated, must have poisoned his mind for years, must have eaten away his mind as a malignant tumor, so when that dreadful moment came and Loki learned of his origins, he broke down as it was the last straw.

 

Loki’s downfall was based on his parents’ lies. No, not lies- unspoken truths, concealed facts, chocked up confessions. They all seemed harmless but nothing strong can be built on rotten foundation, as once foundation is shaken, everything crumbles and buries the unfortunate under its wreckage.

 

And Frigga remembered the very first day when their foundation started to rot.

 

Her children were very young. Thor had just won his first tournament, and Loki…well, the youngling had only recently started his magic studies but was already well known for his pranks.

 

It was on the night of the great feast when the assassins had stricken. The guards caught them before they could harm anyone in the open, but not before they’ve poisoned the drink intended for Thor.

 

Only Thor didn’t take it, he gave it to Loki, announcing loudly that he was graciously inclined to share his victory with his dearest brother, who was too busy scandalizing maidens with his magic to participate in the tournament.

 

The poison worked slowly, eating away the victim with excruciating pain and fever. Frigga was devastated, crying and shuddering in horror at Loki’s bedside, watching as her youngest slowly succumbed to the grip death.

 

Odin went to the only person who could brew the antidote –a witch who lived in the mountains outside of Asgard - and came back empty handed, because that witch was one of his lovers, and a very jealous one. Odin banished her after she started to behave impudently, but forgot that no one can hold a grudge bigger then a broken-hearted woman.

 

Thor went ballistic, and his shouting round with Odin matched the storm raging outside.

 

Frigga thought they were cursed, as her youngest son was dying before her eyes, and her oldest disappeared, just walked out of the palace and dissolved into the chaos.

 

Odin sent the guards after him but they came back almost immediately, as the winds threw them off their feet and the downpour blinded them, rendering the search impossible.

 

Thor was lost to the storm and Frigga feared he was not coming back. She tried to keep her composure, but a woman can battle her emotions only so far…

 

She left her son’s bedside only for a moment, to let her husband face her fury, but the moment she stepped outside she heard a whisper…”Mother…”

 

She froze where she was standing, cursing the wind for playing tricks on her ears, but then she heard it again, a bit louder. “Mother…”

 

She ran back, dashing to Loki in a split of a second. “Please, child, do not speak.”

 

He looked around and, of course…”Where’s Thor?”

 

Frigg’s heart stopped, and she tried to hide her horror, but…Loki could always see right through her mask.  
“He quarreled with your father and ran out into the storm. We…we can’t find him anywhere.”

 

A soft “oh” fell from his lips and he said nothing else, only held out his palm and conjured a tiny ball of light that flickered once and vanished into the darkness.

 

Loki lived, and Frigga learned later that it was that light that guided Thor home.

 

Loki lived, but he never fully recovered.

 

Frigga knew something changed in him, and it was not the fear of death, for that he was trained as warrior and proved himself a brave one. It was something subtle, like a shadow behind the blue of his eyes, something invisible but always present. Envy? Disappointment?

 

Now Frigga understood why her son was hurt- how unfair had it seemed to him that when he was poisoned, when he laid dying, nobody cared. Not even his mother.

 

He woke up at the empty room, completely alone, abandoned, with everyone gone because his dear brother had thrown another temper tantrum and got lost in the bad weather.

 

How devastated inside he must have been…

 

If only he knew what had really happened that night! If only he knew that Thor had left the palace on purpose, that he refused to sit down and watch his brother die, that he defied his father’s order and ran into the storm, cold and blinded by malicious rain; he charged to the mountains and bang on the witch’s door, demanding help.

 

That the witch refused, of course, because she didn’t care about Odin’s children and hated their father. And that her heart softened at the sight of Thor crying in despair, as no woman can ever resist child’s tears, and that what Thor really was in that moment- not a prince, not a son of Odin, but a child, dirty and tired and scared to lose his baby brother.

 

The potion he brought back saved Loki, but Thor made Frigga promise not to tell anyone. He was a champion of Asgard after all, and he couldn’t be known for crying!

 

If only she had ignored his childish demands and told Loki their secret…

 

When Thor announced that he was leaving to help warriors in Midgard, Odin rejoiced. The old fool thought his son finally got over the mourning and gave in to his thirst for adventure. But Frigga was not blind; she knew the real reason behind her son’s departure.

 

Thor’s pain never went away, it only grew deeper. Every time he entered the dining hall he would look at the chair beside him, the place where Loki had always seated. When Thor walked through the halls, he would listen to the rustle and suddenly turn around, as if waiting for Loki to come out of the shadows. But the seat remained empty and the shadows remained silent, and the time came when Thor could bare that no more.

 

So he took off, he left for the world where nothing would remind him of what he had lost.

 

She watched as the horses stopped in their tracks, riders turning around as if looking for something.

 

She didn’t know what was going to happen, and whether she would live through the day or not, but she knew she must do one thing- she must make Loki understand how much he was loved.

 

***********

 

The growl still echoed across the plateau as Loki mused over his vocal abilities. It sounded decent, but he had to admit – he had never mastered the lion’s hunting cry to perfection. Though judging by the effect it had on the horses, it did the trick after all.

 

And what an effect it was! The horses pranced and neighed in sheer horror, throwing riders of their back and charging forward, away from the non-existent predator. They pushed and kicked and threw at each other, ripping each other’s flesh with their teeth, trying to get ahead of the herd. Their riders cried in fear as they saw where the beasts were fleeing, but they could not stop the rampage of the horses scared to death.

 

And so they galloped across the plain, through the river and over the edge of the earth, falling with wails of despair into the bottomless darkness.

 

As the last horse flew through the water and disappeared, Loki sighed. If everything was that easy, he might even live through the day.

 

Than a whistling sound coming from behind caught his attention and he turned around, just in time to dodge the fire ball sent by artillery.

 

Obviously, the last group saw the untimely demise of their predescessors and decided to keep the safe distance between themselves and the Trickster, and instead of facing him in direct combat to just pummel him with their ammunition from afar.

 

Loki swung aside, ditching another blast, and arched his eyebrow.

\- Now that is simply an insult!


	4. Chapter 4

Frigga watched with grim fascination the whole troll cavalry perish before her eyes. She always knew that a word spoken by the tongue of the wise could be a formidable force, but wielded by the silver tongue of her son...it became lethal.

 

She peered through the broken wood again, mesmerized by the view of Loki dancing around the field, avoiding artillery charges, jumping and swirling in the air as an exotic acrobat, when something else caught her eye.

 

Something was gleaming on the belt buckle of a fallen troll. The body was too far away for Frigga to see details, but she knew that cold gleam for that she have seen it before-a metal craftsmanship of dark elves. It was fine and exquisite and full of black powers just as the hands that made it.

 

The dark elves, the cursed folk of the Alfenheim, doomed for their treachery, bound for the rest of times to stay in the darkness, banished from the sunlight to the deepest caves of the earth.

 

A long time had passed since an Aesir had last seen them, and they had become a legend more than a real threat, a fairy tale Frigga had told her children during the long winter nights. But all fairy tales were based on truth and that was the moment when the truth came back to haunt her.

 

The dark elves were skilled in combat and proficient in magic, even more so than Aesir. They came out of the shadows of the night and swept across the enemy lines killing everyone on their path and then vanished with first rays of the sun, leaving no trace behind but a stream of blood and death.  
But the real reason their names spiked fear even in bravest hearts of Asgardian warriors was that they were invincible.

They could not be harmed by a blade or an arrow, any wound inflicted upon their flesh would immediately heal, leaving no vestige on the skin. They knew no hunger or tire, no fear or weariness, and no mercy. Only two things in the universe could strip them of their magic and bare their weakness – the sunlight, that binded their curse, and the clean, streaming water, that washed away filth from their souls, leaving them bare.

 

Frigga shivered. The only source of water was the river behind the plain, but it was closed off by the mount of troll corpses. And it was already getting dark...

 

***** 

 

Loki darted forward, ditching the artillery charges. Some of the fireballs he reflected back at trolls, blowing up several machines and scattering the guards, but the remaining ones just sped up the onslaught. He stumbled and fell to one knee as a charge blew up behind him, clobbering him with shrapnel, and cursed – he was running out of patience.

 

The artillery approached carefully, trying not to shorten the distance enough for him to reach them with heavy magic, but they were close enough for Loki to commence his planned assail.

 

He plunged his right hand into the earth up to the wrist, letting the spell flow freely from the tips of his fingers, streaming through the soil like drops of rain. He cleared his mind and breathed deeply, letting the magic overtake him and collect itself beneath the surface. He waited for a moment, as the spell slithered its way down to the trolls army, undetected, and then thrust it forward.

 

Trolls hollered in shock and horror as the earth beneath them trembled and giant roots sprang from under their feet. The sprouts coiled and swirled around them, twisting them together and crushing in suffocating embrace, glowing ghostly green in the twilight. And then the ground parted beneath them and swallowed them whole.

 

Loki slowly stood up, letting his body regain strength, and swept away the sweat dripping from his forehead.

 

The plain looked unnervingly quiet in the rays of the setting sun, and he took a moment to examine the fruits of his work. The troll army had perished, and it should have made him feel satisfied...

 

But Loki was no fool.

 

Trolls were too stupid to plan attack on Asgard, even when Asgard was left mostly undefended. They were collaborating with someone else, someone much more dangerous. Someone smart enough to use them as cannon meat and wait for the good opportunity to attack undetected.

 

As the darkness fell on the lands and the last beams of sunlight caressed the blackening sky, Loki felt his skin prickle with foreboding sense of danger.

Then he saw them- four dozen of golden eyes glowing in the dark.

 

***** 

 

The elven prince applauded Loki as he sauntered closer to the Asgardian.  
“Well played, Silver tongue, well played.”

 

The two warriors considered each other with disdain.

 

The elves were slender, the same height as Aesir, with dark brown skin marked by religious scarring inflicted by priests on newborns, and snow white hair glistening in moonlight.  
Their eyes gleamed warm gold, though showed nothing but contempt and thirst for blood.

 

Loki rambled back slowly, reaching for his spear and letting his cape fall to the ground.

 

The Elven prince huffed at this with despise.  
“Now, now, do you really think you are a match for us? Look around, you're outnumbered! And your little tricks wont do you any good, magi! Surrender, “ the prince grinned maliciously at Loki, baring his black teeth, “ And I promise you quick death.”

 

Loki quirked an eyebrow, “Don't think so.”

 

The elf frowned, “Of course, Aesir and their code of honor. Fine, duel me- and go down nobly.”

 

Loki laughed softly, “Fight you, and let your dogs stab me in the back?”

 

He straightened up and reached for the sword.

 

“You'll be dead before you start!”

 

“How do you know? I haven't started yet.”

 

“Who do you think you are, to equal us,“ the elf growled in anger, “ Odin the All father? Or Thor the Thunderer?!”

 

“Oh, my little fairy, you should know your enemies better. I am Loki the Trickster, ” Loki smiled and took several steps back ,  
“and you are dying tonight,” and dissolved into the army of his doubles.

 

***** 

 

As the darkness spat out two dozen of figures cloaked in fog, Frigga knew at instant her short jolt of joy over the victory was ill lived- the battle wasn't over, it had just began.

 

She execrated the fates for their malice and slowly sipped the air through her nose, trying to calm down. She knew her son will not recoil, and the elves will not stop so close to their triumph.

 

That didn't leave Loki much time. Even a warrior with his talents and keen astute mind won't last long under vicious attack of elves, for that he won't even be able to harm them...  
And with no help, he was doomed to perish.

 

Frigga frowned, her lips pursed into thin line.  
She wasn't going to sit in her cell and watch her son die at the hands of those beasts.  
But what could she do?

 

Think, you feeble woman, think...

 

Elves could be stripped of their invincibility by sunlight or water....She couldn't make the sun go up before it's time, nobody could. Water on the other hand...

She lifted her eyes to the skies in silent prayer for the rain but the skies were clear, bottomless and dark, smiling at her insultingly with myriads of stars.

 

The elves were smart enough to choose the Asgardian summer for their attack- a streak of days when skies were cloudless and the heat sustained for weeks ahead.  
The rain in summer was as rare as a living flower on the frosty plains of Jotunheim.

 

Unless Thor was around. The God of Thunder could wield his hammer and cause a storm with showers and lightning using his sheer will. But he wasn't there. It was only her, a tired old woman, hidden in her unfortunate cell away from the battle, watching her son march to his death.

 

No. I will not stand for this. I will not let the fates take him away from me again, even if I have to fight the Norns themselves.

 

Frigga growled, her fear and dread draining from her blood slowly, giving up their place for something thicker and darker, anger and fury.  
It was unfair, it was unjust- to be given what you wanted the most and then be stripped of it in such brutal manner.  
She was a maiden, she couldn't help her son on the battlefield. But she was Asgardian, and before that, she was a mother, and no mother ever would give up her child without a fight.

 

Frigga reached into her sleeve and pulled out the only weapon she always had with her- a golden spindle encrusted with emeralds and covered in ancient runes- a birthday gift from her long-deceased father, the one she had cherished the most.

 

Thor had inherited his weather – changing abilities from her, not from Odin. Frigga's magic was also bound to her spindle– as Thor's was to his hammer- but her power was much more subtle, felt in a sudden change of wind, or a touch of mist in the hot afternoon, mirroring her mood shifts.

 

She had no time for subtle now, when it was a matter of minutes.  
She didn't have to be subtle anymore.

Too much pain, too much resentment had nested in her soul since she had lost her Loki. Her eyes were dry, but it her heart was crying instead, dripping with bloody tears.

Her blood boiled, set on fire with hate.

All she had to do now was take the spindle in her hand and twirl it, pour her emotions into her hands, and the skies would respond to her in storm so strong that it would sweep away the enemies in a single blast of wind.

 

But she had no yarn to spin.

 

Frigga looked over the room and smiled, as her eyes fell on the rusty sickle stuck in the corner.

 

It was a day of her and her son's battle, and they were going to win it.

 

***********

 

Loki managed to slow down the onslaught but his efforts of attacking back resulted in nothing, and the whole fight came to a standstill. He was panting hard, his lungs were on fire from the lack of oxygen, and eyes were burning from sweat that rolled down his face in constant streams.

 

He swirled and threw his sword forward, blocking elf's spear inches from his neck and swung his torso backwards to avoid the blow that came immediately after.

 

It took the elves a while to find a real Loki among his magic incarnations, but once they did, they disregarded his magic clones and concentrated the attack on him. As that happened, the hail of strikes and punches blurred the world around Loki into one massive glistening of metal, and now he was surrounded by the enemy, like a pray, stalked into a circle of death.

 

They were good, too good for Loki's taste, their motions precise and articulated, and all set to kill, and he was only alive because he was better.

 

It became harder and harder to concentrate and parry the blows through the haze of pain and tiredness, and Loki hissed as a spear slashed across his left thigh. It was just a scratch, but it gave away his growing weakness, for that the elves finally got close enough to gash him.

 

He was running out of time.

 

Loki could simply give in, let the elves finish him, welcome the death like a dearest friend for it would finally bring peace to his wounded soul and ruboring mind, but then...

Then the army of Asgard would find his mutilated body amongst the fallen. And they would muse on his brief return from the dead and give him a funeral with soldier honors, so the whole Asgard would gather around the pyre with masks of sorrow on their faces, playing a grieving crowd from those outside the realm.

And later Odin would through a feast to celebrate his foster son's so anticipated and this time certain demise.

 

No, Loki won't give them such pleasure.

 

Loki frowned and landed his fist right into the elf's nose, crushing it into a pulp, but the bones rearranged themselves and the ripped skin healed before he could blink twice.

The King of Asgard threw a spell in his enemies, throwing elves off their feet for long enough to gather his thoughts.

He had power left only for one more incantation before his body would give in to exhaustion, and he had to choose wisely.

 

What would it be?

 

Everyone always assumed Loki was a creature of the night, an embodiment of deceit that lurked in shadows, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But he never liked darkness, nor he liked cold or ice or water, he was intimidated by them.

Instead, Loki was always fascinated by fire and light, lured by their warmth and beauty, enamored by their ability to disperse blackness with a single sparkle, but people around him were too blind to see that.

 

An old wizard from Midgard taught him a powerful and dangerous incantation when he was a child. A simple conjuration of fire that could kill everyone in hearing distance including the magi himself once performed right.

Just what he needed.

 

Loki tried it only once, in much less damaging version, and it worked. That day he burned his hands, Sif lost her luscious hair and Thor was deprived of his first grown beard that he was so proudly showing off to maidens.

 

Yes, indeed, a very good incantation.

 

Just get close to the elves, and let it slip from your lips, and you will finally purify yourself...

 

Loki darted forward, whispering the spell, and closed his fingers around the elven prince's neck, but the spell died on his lips as his hand turned dark and scarred, mirroring his enemy's appearance, just as it did on Jotunheim.

“Impossible!”- Loki's eyes widened in shock, but the same second a heavy blow came down his head and everything went dark.

 

******

 

Frigga continued to spin, watching quietly as her son's magical doubles had been stricken down one by one. Each time her heart jerked in fear in her chest, but each time she knew her son was alive, because the rest of the clones were still fighting.

 

When the last one flickered and disappeared into the night as a whirl of green smoke, Frigga knew her son had been captured.

 

But the shield on the door stood strong, which meant her youngest was still alive...

 

Of course, the elves wont miss the opportunity to humiliate their enemies. They would bound him and torture him and put on display in the cage, starved and filthy, like a animal.

Frigga got up from the floor and put away her spindle. The skies turned black with the thick storm clouds and now, with each gust of wind, the heavy banging of rain drops on the roof and walls and windows grew louder and louder.

 

Whether it was a loss or a victory mattered not to the Queen. She was a mother, and wherever her child's destiny lied she was going to share.

 

A very strong blast of wind hit the roof and tore away the tile, baring the wooden arch and the thunderstorm above it.

Frigga picked up a small clay plate from the floor and threw it through the opening, watching with relief as the plate flew through the hole meeting no obstacle and landing with a cling somewhere outside.

 

Her son sealed the doors and windows, but left the top open, for he would never expect a woman of her age to be physically able to climb that far up.

 

“My silly boy”, Frigga smiled to herself, pounced around couple of times, feeling her legs, then jumped up, swung around in mid air, using wall as a springboard, and with a perfect somersault threw herself through the roof.

 

*******

 

Loki knew he was still alive, for that his whole body was screaming in pain.

 

He called upon oblivion, but a hard slap on the cheek mercilessly pulled him out of half-dreaming state.

 

He tried to open his eyes and regretted it the very second, as his eyes ached from all the blood streaming down his face.

 

One of the elven spears hit him in the forehead, and the wound was bleeding profoundly, covering Loki's pale face with a veil of red.

 

That will definitely leave a scar...

 

He just shut his eyes again.

 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty, you're not going to die on us now, are you?”

 

Loki ignored the insulting tone and instead proceeded to estimate his condition.

 

His right arm was broken, and several ribs were definitely cracked as each breath sent a jolt of agonizing ache through his body.  
His movements were constricted by heavy metal shackles on his wrists and something that felt like a dog collar on his neck. He tried to turn his head and growled as the movement was met with a sharp sting of metal spikes piercing his sensitive skin.

 

A necklace of the condemned, as it was known. A string of hardened leather embroidered with dozens of silver fangs to prevent the victim from moving, a symbol of shame and submission to the victor.

 

Loki flickered his fingers and barely suppressed a smile as a spark of magic burned his fingertips slightly.

 

So, his capturers strapped him of dignity and ability to move, but left his greatest weapon- magic- intact?  
Perhaps his last star performance assured them that he was completely drained of energy...

 

Over self-confident, aren't we?

 

He allowed the sides of his chopped lips to curve into undetectable smirk.

 

********

 

The elven prince dragged the Aesir up by the hair, trying to bring the other back to consciousness, but as his grip on the raven locks got tighter, the prince's eyes remained closed.

The dark-haired man opened his mouth and licked away the moisture from his lips as the rain started to fall on the plain.

 

Then he spoke, voice coarse like a sand on the rocks.

“You're no longer invincible.”

 

The elf looked around and snorted,  
“Let it rain. Let it snow and hail and shower, that won't change anything. You're finished, and I,” he paused to smile, “have an army.”

 

Suddenly the pair of ice-blue eyes pierced him and the elf shivered, as Loki's mouth twisted into evil simper.

 

“What army?”

 

Elf jolted away from the Trickster and froze, horrified, as two dozen of heads hit the ground in unison and the elven bodies followed, mowed down by Loki's newly conjured doubles .

 

The twenty clones of Loki leered concordantly and dissipated, as their master fainted from the strain the spell had put on him.

 

The elven prince wailed in anger and horror and swung his sword to finish the offender but stopped in mid-movement as a dagger came flying from afar and hit him straight to the chest. His heart stopped in instant and he fell slain towards his dead comrades.

 

*****

 

Loki dreamed of the past; of the days brightened with sunshine and laughter and joy, of wast flower fields of Asgard where he played with his brother when they were small, of quiet evenings in the royal bed chambers, of the firewood crackle in the chimney, and of mother's welcoming arms.

 

He remembered how she would catch him running through the doors, and swirl him around and kiss his cheeks until they were burning red, ignoring his undignified protests...It was the best time of his life.

 

But it was all a lie.

 

Loki swallowed a limp in his scorched throat. A keen mind was his gift and misfortune, and he often wondered how easier would it have been if he could just throw a tantrum, like Thor, and forget the insult the next morning.

 

But he could not.

 

He kept playing all the bad moments of his life over and over again, seeing it how he should have seen if he knew the truth. The insults, the favoritism, the unfairness...it all condensed into a poison that slowly ate away his heart.

 

The man drew in the air through his clenched teeth and prayed for the delirium to overcome him. He was going to die, but he wanted only to remember those sunny days of his childhood, before the war, before the betrayal, so he could at least die happy...

 

His body screamed in protest as two arms helped him from the ground and wrapped around him, cradling him in warmth. He tried to pull free, but the grasp tightened, as if the person holding him was afraid of letting go.

 

Loki winced and sluggishly tried to fight off the attack, wriggling his way out of the hold, but embrace only stiffened, followed by the gentle fingers brushing the hair off his forehead, and soft lips planting disorderly kisses all over his face.

 

It was wrong, it was intolerable, his poisoned brain kept whispering him, but it felt so damn good that Loki just let himself enjoy it for a moment, lingering into the embrace.

 

“Oh, child, don't you worry, I've got you, I've got you now...”

That voice.... So familiar and dear, calling his name over and over again...

 

“Loki. Please, Loki, my dear, open your eyes...”

 

Loki's mind refused to listen, but his eyelids obeyed without hesitation and when his sight focused, he saw Frigga holding his head on her thighs and rocking him slightly as if he was a newborn.  
Her eyes were rimmed with red from crying and hair...her golden locks were gone, and the short uneven spikes were plastered on her weary face.

 

“Your hair...”

 

Frigga gaped and rejoiced as her child had spoken to her, and smile immediately brightened up her face, making her look young and beautiful again.

 

“Loki, thanks Norns...”

 

“What happened?” Loki demanded and looked up to the skies that were still pouring down the haze of rain, and everything suddenly got into the place.

 

“You've cut it?”  
Loki looked at the woman incredulously, “you've cut it...for me?”

His voice trembled and broke into whisper muffled by the gust of wind.

 

Frigga sighed ,  
“Oh, my baby, ” and looked straight into the bottomless blues staring at her, “I will die for you, if need be.”

Loki shook his head, trying to weird dream, this hallucination that's been torturing him for that it couldn't be true, no way in Hel could it be true...

 

“What?”

 

Frigga tugged him closer, “Why do you even have to ask? You are my child, and I...”

 

Loki shrank back and pushed away from the woman, angry at her and at himself for his weakness.

“But I am not your son!”

 

He stumbled to his feet, grateful that elven shackles and collar were broken and gone, forgotten somewhere in the dirt. His body was on fire, every nerve screaming in pain, his ankles threating to buckle under his weight.

But anger boiled through his veins and he stood up, proud and accusing, glaring at Frigga with his piercing gaze.

 

“You were never my mother!”

 

“Loki, I love you, I have always loved you and always will...”

 

“Enough already! You lied to me all my life, at least stop lying now!”

 

A shadow of pain flashed across Frigga's face and Loki instantly felt ashamed for causing it, but his blood kept boiling and he was too tired to stop anger from spilling.

 

“You never saw me as a son, did you? What was I for you? A breathing toy? An exotic puppy? A living trophy that you could play with? “

 

He paused to catch his breath,  
“Why are you here, milady? Oh, I bet there is a purpose! Let me guess, your dear husband had found a new use for me, and send you to convince me...Isn't it so, isn't it? “

He shouted at his Queen and his heart bled as tears started pouring down her face.

 

“ I beg you, bethink yourself...”

 

“You think your petty tears would change my mind? You think you can simply hug me and make me forget years of your false play? Do you really think...”

 

He didn't get a chance to finish as a blinding lightning slashed across the skies and the wind hardened, almost throwing him off his feet.

He looked back at his mother and shied away as she looked thunderous, brows frowned, lips pursed into thin line.

 

A childish fear sprang inside him at this magnificent sight. He opened his mouth to spit another insult, but shut it close as Frigga's low voice sounded through the night.

“Enough. I will not be listening to this nonsense. I made a mistake of concealing your heritage earlier, and for that I beg your forgiveness. But don't you dare to doubt me in my love for you.”

 

She took a few steps forward, just to be close enough to him, and looked into Loki's eyes as he didn't dare to move.

 

“I did not give birth to you, Loki, but you are my child and always will be. I watched you grow, I saw your first step, I heard your first word...I am your mother and I love you above all, and I will love you as long as my heart beats.”

 

Loki shuddered as all his mental barriers came crushing down at her words, and he praised the skies for the rain that hid away his treacherous tears. His words came out like nothing but a whisper, “Please, leave me alone...”

 

Frigga came even closer, so their bodies were almost touching.

“You want me to leave? You want me to seize loving you? Well, then you'll have to kill me, my dear, for only death can tear you away from my heart.”

 

Loki froze for a second, and then gave in, opening his arms as Frigga stepped into his embrace.

 

A single word felt from his lips before he broke down to quiet sobs in the Queen's arms,  
“Mother...”

 

And there they stood, and Loki whispered “I'm sorry, so sorry...”, while his mother fondled his hair, letting his sorrows flood away through his tears.

 

*********

 

When the trickster calmed down, he felt an elegant hand press on his heart, and pushed aside to look at his mother inquiringly.

The woman just smiled softly and cupped his cheek,

“You're hurt, my son, let me help you.”

 

And as she spoke, tiny flows of golden energy spilled from her fingers and slither into his body, filling every part of him with warmth and love and light, making him glow from the inside.

 

Loki gasped in surprise as he felt his bones grow together and his wounds heal, living no scars, no marks, not even smallest of scratches, and the energy streamed through him, rejuvenating and reviving.

“I didn't know you could heal...”

 

His mother smiled at him, tracing his jaw with delicate fingers.

“Every Aesir woman can heal...those, whom she loves most.”

 

Loki's heart skipped a beat, as he smiled shyly, blush crawling its way to his pale face. He lowered his eyes, then asked, “Mother...I...My skin, it turned dark when I touched the elf, I don't understand...”

 

“Oh,” Frigga looked perplexed, then a thought swept over her face.

 

“We might have been wrong, all of us.”  
She put her arms on Loki's shoulders and moved closer, as if she was sharing a secret.

 

“When Odin burst into the temple, he was looking for the secret weapon Laufey threatened to use against Aesir...He thought he seized it when he found the Casket, but he might have been wrong...”

 

Loki glanced at his mother, obviously confused, “What are you saying?”

 

“Well, I heard a legend once...”

 

Her tale was stopped by a screeching sound that came from under the pile of bodies. Loki swirled around, preparing to fight, and to his horror saw the source of it.

 

It was a small golden locket that the fallen elven prince had around his neck. The trinket suddenly sprang alive, the tiny links of the chain separated for a moment, flowing down the dead body, dragging the locket along with them, and then they reattached, and darted back from Loki's sight, worming their way through the mud like a thin golden snake.

 

It took Loki a split of a second to recognize the magic behind it and he rushed after it, desperately trying to catch up and destroy the cursed object before it was too late, but he failed.

A locket burst into sparkles and cracked wide open, and a whirlwind of fire spurt into the sky, as Loki backed away from it, terrified.

 

He flew back to his mother as fast as he could. 

 

He didn't have to look at it to know that in several seconds the flame would shape itself into a giant sizzling figure with horns and wings and claws that would spring forward and destroy every living being on its way.  
He read of them in the ancient scrolls, the living flame of the doomed, the demon of Muspellheim.

 

He came across the tale from distant past when he was hiding from Thor in the dungeons.  
A legend spoke of unimaginable evil born in the lands of eternal fire and the race of warriors from the land of infinite cold that helped Aesir defeat the demons and lock them away in their realm of damnation.

But those warriors were long gone, disappeared into the mist without a trace, leaving no words of wisdom or spells that they used against Muspellheim monsters.

And now one of those monsters was hungrily tracing Loki's retreating back.

 

Loki grasped his horror stricken mother and shook her back to her senses,  
“Mother, you have to go, NOW!”

Frigga looked at him and shook her head, perfectly calm,

“I'm not leaving.”

 

Loki growled in frustration, there wasn't any time for arguing, “Leave, now! I won't be able to hold it for long!”

 

“You want me to run away and leave you for dead?”

 

“Mother, enough! I can't destroy it, I can only distract it so you can escape...”

A hand cupped Loki's cheek as Frigga smiled at him reassuringly, a confidence shining bright in her eyes.

 

“Oh yes you do, you just don't know it yet.”

 

Loki stared back at her in shock. “Mother, have you...gone mad?!”

 

Frigga tsked, “Don't get saucy with me.”  
She wiggled a finger at him and smiled again, “Now go and kill that monster. I have faith in you.”

 

For a change Loki was at loss of words. He just blinked several times, then turned away to face the demon.

 

The narration he read spoke of a sorcerer, the greatest among the warriors, the prince of their race, who used his magic to call upon the great chill, the winds of Nifleheim as the author called it, a whirl of frost and cold so powerful that it swept away the blistering heat and turned the demons to ashes.

 

So that's what he has to do. That's the only way to stop the demon, to freeze him over, but how?

 

If he only had a Casket of ancient winters with him...But the relic was gone.

 

Loki sighed and started to concentrate.

 

********

Frigga stood behind her son in silence, waiting for him to find his real power hidden deep inside his soul.

 

She had her suspicions before, but she had never gotten a chance to prove herself right...until now.

 

Frigga shivered as cold crept its way through her clothes. Her son looked back at her and twitched his fingers, sending a stream of fire down to earth to encircle her, keeping her protected and warm.

 

Then he looked to the skies, muttering spells, but nothing happened, and the night was deaf to his words. The woman clenched her fists in attempts to calm down her nerves. She was right, she had to be right, all she had to do is watch her son discover his true self...She shrank down a little bit as the demon approached and the earth trembled beneath him.

She looked at the lean figure of her son and prayed to be right.

 

And then the rain stopped.

 

Frigga forgot how to breath when she felt temperature drop.  
No, she didn't only feel it- she saw it- as the frost slowly crawled its way trough the land, freezing over the pools of water and hardening the mud into a stone. She noticed in a moment a vapor from her breath crystallizing in the air, and sparkles of rime forming on the tips of her eyelashes.

She smiled to herself for she had indeed been right.

 

And then the clouds parted.

 

It was an eye of a hurricane, a mighty whirl of air braking the thunderstorm apart and revealing the bottomless sky besprent with myriads of stars, and the Northern Lights dispelling away the darkness.

The temperature dropped further and Frigga shivered again, goosebumps covered her skin and her breath started falling to the ground in tiny snowflakes. She bended down to reach for the fire, the only source of warmth around her that Loki had provided.

 

The demon advanced, but the movements grew slower and slower as the fire thickened and gave in to the cold. When he came close and lifted a claw to strike, Loki snapped his fingers and the giant figure exploded, falling down to Loki's feet as a pile of frozen dirt.

 

He turned to his mother and the woman gasped, taken aback by the power emanating from him, by his royal calmness and ethereal beauty, for he was magnificent.

“You knew, didn't you?That's why my skin kept changing- because I can transform in any kin I lay my hand upon. That's why magic had always lured me. I am the last of Nifleheim kin, the secret weapon Laufey was bragging about, ain't I?”

 

Frigga stepped out of the fire circle that died behind her and approached her son. “Not last, my son- the first of a new kin.”

 

She hugged him tight, resting her head on his chest. “Come home with me, son.”

 

“I can't.”

 

Frigga's eyes jerked up, “Loki?”

 

The man placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I have to know the truth about myself.” Loki lowered his gaze, “And I have to make amends. Please, mother, promise me you won't tell anyone of today. No one.”

 

Frigga shook her head, “But Loki, your brother..”

 

“Please, I beg you. I've wronged too many innocents, I have to pay for what I've done, until then...I'm not worthy.”

 

Frigga barely muffled a shriek, “What do you mean you are not worthy?! You've just saved the realm! You've just stopped an army, all by yourself! How can you say such nonsense?”

 

Loki put a hand on her shoulder, “Promise me. No one will know of this, not one living soul. Until I return, until I forgive myself...I shall remain dead. Do you promise me, mother?”

 

Frigga's eyes brimmed with tears, “I promise. But you have to promise me too, my son, that you will return to me as soon as you're ready. Swear to me that you'll be back into my arms."

 

"I swear."

With thay Loki smiled at her and disappeared.

 

 

Epilogue.

 

Frigga strolled across the plain aiming each step carefully to avoid disturbing the dead, and mused on everything that transpired before her eyes .

She always doubted Loki was a frost giant. The Jotunns were completely striped of any grace; they couldn't learn the fluidity of movements even if their life depended on it for that their bodies were unfit for it, huge and bulky as if carved from the ice with a blunt axe.

 

And her son...Loki was anything but clunky.

 

His movements resembled those of felines, as he pounced and danced around people right from the moment he made his first step.

 

Frigga wondered if he was a half-breed then, a spawn of union of a frost giant and someone from more...esthetically pleasing race, like Vanir, Elf or Aesir...  
May be a child of Odin and some Jotunn captive her husband got in one of the battles.

 

But Loki bared no traits of giants, he hated cold, was afraid of the dark and despised any images of his alleged home world.  
Plus he was completely unaffected by Jotunn medicine, and that was something Frigga prouded herself in- it was her sacred duty to know those potions so she could tend to her husband, a quarter-Jotunn himself.

 

Her son was a changeling, that was a given- but what if All father was wrong and it was not a trait inherited by blood, but instead a acquired habit, a skill used to protect himself from enemies by blending into them?

 

Now Frigga knew her husband was wrong- Loki was not a giant, he was a much more beautiful and powerful creature.

 

Odin was right in another thing though- Loki indeed helped to secure the peace between the Asgard and the other worlds of the Tree for no one in all nine realms was crazy enough to attack the Land Eternal again when it had Undead King who could single handedly defeat an invasion army.

 

One thing remained a mystery however – how did Laufey get his hands on Loki, where did he find a child of a lost folk, from what unknown ends of the earth had he brought the baby to his frosty palace?

 

Speaking of mysteries- Frigga eyed a dagger that was sticking out of the elven prince's chest, and then pulled it out not bothering to conceal disgust.  
It was a piece of finest work, definitely touched by blacksmith masters of the palace, with royal insignia on the handle.

 

It was Loki's.

 

Frigga frowned.

She was certain her son didn't have it with him when they've met. And she was sure he didn't throw it at the elf.  
Then a realization formed in her mind.

 

“Reveal yourself!”, Frigga called out, “ I know you are here, so I order you, show yourself, whoever you are!”

 

“I'm here, my Queen,” a quiet voice sounded from behind the walls of the outpost and the woman smiled as a familiar form limped into the sight.

 

“Lady Sif?”

 

The maiden was shivering from head to toe, lips blue from cold and teeth chattering, cheeks frostbitten red as apples in the fall. She was leaning on the crutch and Frigga frowned, noticing her right leg, tightened up with bandages and bleeding slightly.

 

“So, it was you who threw the dagger?”

 

“Yes, your majesty.”

 

Sif's face darkened as the leg was obviously bothering her, but the warrior straightened up to show off her posture.

“But it is my son's weapon, isn't it?”

 

Frigga watched with great amusement as Sif blushed bright red and lowered her eyes.

“Yes, milady. I might have ...borrowed it during one of the trainings and well...I grew so fond of it I couldn't bring myself to give it back to Loki...until today.”

 

“Well, my dear, your timing was perfect. I thank you for saving my son.”

 

Sif saluted her Queen and bowed, “Your Majesty.”

 

“Though I still wonder what exactly are you doing here?”

 

Sif gazed at Frigga and lowered her eyes again, this time filled with guilt.

“I beg forgiveness, milady. I went after you the moment I learned you left the palace, but all horses were needed for evacuation and I...I couldn't run as fast as before with my leg broken.”

 

“I see.” Frigga decided not to torture the maiden anymore, and smoothly changed the subject.

“I think it is time for us to go back.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

 

And so they walked together towards the palace until Sif broke the silence.

“My Queen, what would be your orders concerning your son?”

 

Frigga's head jerked up as she was ripped out of her contemplations, “What?”

 

Sif eyed her warily, “Should I order a feast or a festival to celebrate his victory?”

 

Frigga blinked at the maiden and suddenly burst into tears.  
Sif dropped her crutch and grabbed Frigga's arms in clumsy offer of consolation.

 

“My Queen, my lady, what's wrong?”

 

“I can't...” older woman's sobs made it hard to understand her stuttered speech, but Sif was used to decoding drunken language of her friends, so she made sense out of every word.

 

“I can't, we can't..I gave him my word, I promised Loki I will keep it a secret...I can't tell anyone that he is a hero, that he is a protector of the realm, that he just saved us all...I can't even tell Thor his dear brother is alive!”

 

She continued to weep until Sif's hand forced her to look up,  
“There is no need for tears, my Queen,” and Frigga stopped for a second , trying to protest.

 

“You swore secrecy to Loki, I understand, but you forget," Sif grinned at Frigga mischievously,   
" I didn't promise him anything.”


End file.
